On Wings of Sapphire
by whitedove4
Summary: A bloody hand print on the wall. Blood splattered across the floor. Her blank face was reflected back at her in the thousands of fragments of mirror that glinted the sunlight, cracked like a dry river bed, the fissures running deeper and deeper. He did not know her; for his deep indigo eyes were as dark and empty as the Sunless Sea. Prince Rilian was no more.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Pre-Silver chair as well as post silver chair as well as a kind-of sequel to my other fic Daggers of Ice (if that makes any sort of sense haha). I really hope you enjoy this. I wanted to give the Lady of the Green Kirtle a back-story, because not much is known about her. Anyway, no more pre-amble. The prologue is super short, but please don't be dissuaded, the other chapters will be longer, I promise. ENJOY : )**_

 **Chapter 1: Prologue**

 _ **7 years passed**_

Emerylda watched the beautiful queen, whose hair shimmered like the starlight. Apt, she thought. For what other colour hair would a star have?

She watched from the shadow of the oak tree, hidden. Unseen.

The queen sung a pretty tune, light and lilting.

She wore no crown, no circlet, but there was no mistaking the Queen of Narnia. For none other was as beautiful in the land. She could hear the rest of the party, they were a merry bunch, their music floating through the forest.

The star's son, Prince Rilian had been knighted. One the cusp of manhood, the prince had seen no more than eight and ten years. And what better way to celebrate his knighthood than by giving a gift?

Emerylda watched the queen in her solitude, her pristine white gown pooled around her like the petals of the softest rose. The golden jewellery she wore glinted in the soft light that flittered through the canopy above. She was picking wildflowers.

A fool to leave the protection of the knights and courtiers.

And in that instant Emerylda made her decision.

Her skin shifted, her shimmering jade gown falling to the ground as silken scales ran across it. Stunning emerald scales that almost sparkled like the woman before her. She revelled in the feeling of the ground beneath her soft scales, it felt so much better than earth on flimsy rough skin. She had perfected but one shape.

But it was enough.

The pretty queen did not see her coming. She sensed nothing wrong.

It was easy, oh so easy for her to sink her fangs into the soft flesh of the queen's arm, looking up into those deep blue eyes. Eyes which opened wide, her mouth falling open in a silent cry of pain as Emerylda's venom flowed into her.

"Mother!"

The voice startled Emerylda who drew back, hissing.

The young prince had burst through the clearing, his deep blue eyes wide.

Terrified.

Little more than a babe.

Emerylda slithered back into the bush. He would see nothing more than her tail. And her true form had far better hearing, though she relished the taste of his fear in the air. She could feel his heartbeat, rapidly pounding within his chest.

"Mother," it was a sob that tore from deep within the prince. A cry. "Help! Someone, help!"

But the bumbling courtiers could not come in time. Nothing would save their dear queen as her lips slowly turned blue.

Her sister would have laughed at his unmanly display as he cradled his mother in his arms.

Liliandil's mouth was desperately trying to form words. But nothing would not. It could not. Not as the venom flowed through her body, shutting down her organs one by one. Soon her heart would give.

And the kingdom would grieve.

Emerylda grinned.

Narnia would fall.

Liliandil fell limp in her sons arm. Red blood trickling from the serpent's bit in her arm.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

The rough and stony moor fell away before her, the many streams and rivers of Ettinsmuir glinted in the half-light of the sun that tried in vain to reach through the clouds that rolled overhead. Sapphyre's steps were as silent as the deer that she stalked.

It was lost, its herd over the next reach, far beyond its sight.

Her soft-soled boots fell upon the earth as she crept behind the large stone. Those large black eyes would not see her. The feather of her arrow brushed her lip as she drew the string back, using the soft curve of her mouth as an anchor. A soft breath escaped her, her heartbeat steady and even.

The deer's ears perked upwards, its eyes widening in fright. And its head turned a moment before it bolted.

Sapphyre's bright eyes narrowed. A scowl on her face and a curse on the lips as the brilliant white mare trotted over the hill. She ducked down, careful not to be seen. And always careful, she kept her arrow knocked.

It was a knight, one of the Narnian King's – for the face of the Lion was upon his breath.

Sapphyre frowned. Would they not give up?

Searching for the lost prince, she was sure. There was no other reason he would be so far north. The Narnians had no love for the Giants.

The knight was vigilant, his eyes searching. Alert.

But he did not see her. And so she followed him silently.

One more she was the hunter, her body hidden by the rocks, her dull clothing blending into the patchwork around her. But he moved towards the marshes, where the rocks ceased.

Miles of marshes spread as far as she could see, with patches of tall grass. The river had lessened to a slow trickle. The air was heavy, thick with the feel of death and decay. Goosebumps rippled up her skin. Fog weaved throughout the sparse trees which stood stooped over with little sign of life.

She had never liked the marshes.

The knight would press on, he would not go around she saw, as he began to weave his mare through the barely-visible path.

She placed her arrow back in the quiver, laying it and her bow upon the ground gently. And with a breath she started to shift. Arms became soft feathered wings, her body became less than a hand-span tall.

And her patchwork clothes lay behind the rocks and bushes as she took flight. A bluebird.

She whistled, a merry song she thought. One she's heard the Harfang giants whistle while working.

The knight smiled, and as he turned he lifted a hand for her to land upon.

"You're a pretty little thing," he smiled as she chirped.

 _Chirped._ She would have gagged if she'd been in her true form. But as a bird…She chirped again.

His finger stroked her feathers in that strange-but-pleasing way. "You know I fear this may be a lost cause. We never find anything, no matter how many times our King bids us to search." He sighed. Solemn. Perhaps he would leave. "But all our knights disappear every time he sends us up here. Caspian thinks that a sure sign he is being held prisoner by the giants."

His fingers are so gentle but she feels her now-small heart fall. He would not turn back. Damn Narnian knights and their vows.

"You know you have strange eyes for a bird." He had stopped the mare and raised his finger to view her small form properly. So gentled.

"By Aslan," his indrawn breath was ragged and Sapphyre knew it that moment what he had noticed.

The moment she always dreaded. When they saw her eyes, the same eyes that she saw each morning in the mirror when she brushed out and plaited her auburn curls. In her bird-form they were not wide and impossibly thickly-lashed, they were not set beneath perfect arched brows. But no matter what form she took the colour remained the same – the brilliant blue that she was named for. The colour than none other would have.

That no animal should ever have.

She left his body in the marshes to feed the animals, his throat slit with the blade she had taken from his belt. She did not stay to look into those hazel eyes, directed towards the solemn sky but unseeing. She rid his body of the shiny armour he wore, pushing it into pool of mud and water where it would sink. How many knights bodies had she disposed of thusly?

She slapped the mare on its rump, hoping that the fortunate soul that found it would treat it kindly.

Her clothes and weapons were where she had left them and were donned quickly, her hair braided quickly.

She almost sighed.

She would return home empty handed.

But she had to report to the Lady.

….

She watched the Pale Beaches become a speck behind her, the seaport – the only link to Narnia above – was gone. She faced the south, trailing her hands in the water as the earthman pushed the boat.

"Careful there lass, yer don't want anything biting off yer fingers," he said in his deep, gravelly voice. Laughing.

But though it was meant in jest, she withdrew her fingers and watched as a fill-like crest rose from the water, a little to the right of her small boat. Creatures of the dark and deep, with teeth the size of her fore-arm.

But they preferred the colder bodies of those that dwelt in the water.

Sapphyre looked up at the eternal darkness of the cavern, so high that she could only ever image that she could see the ceiling.

It would take hours to reach the other side of the lake, perhaps five or six. But so much faster than travelling over the land above. For there were no canyons or rivers to cross, no forests to traipse through. Just the vast expanse of water between the Pale Beaches and the City. The Sunless Sea.

It had once been called the Shallow Lands – the gnomish name for the lands beneath Narnia. Renamed Underland by Emerylda.

Sapphyre knew that they were directly beneath Ettinsmuir and the Wild Lands of the North. In a few hours they would be beneath the rest of Narnia. But there was no life and laughter as there was in joyous Narnia. Underland was darkness and shadows, with the fiery lands of Bism even farther beneath.

But it was not up or down that she went. She travelled south, to where the lake ended in a rocky mountain that rose us into the cave. Whereupon Emerylda had built her Dark Castle and the city surrounding it.

So lost in her thoughts, Sapphyre did not notice when the first of the cities lights appeared on the horizon. White and dull, it was a cold light, it could not rival the beauty of the world above.

She gazed upon the city as the earthman drew them closer. A perfect copy of the home that they had been forced to leave so long ago.

….

Click.

Click.

Click.

Her perfect nails drummed against the arm of her throne. With her other hand she held the polished silver goblet which showed her oh-so-perfect reflection.

She smiled, stroking her soft cheek. The perfect creamy skin, wide emerald eyes, lined with kohl. Her dark auburn hair was held off her face by a circlet of silver, inlaid with emeralds and diamonds, the perfect match to her eyes.

She would make the perfect queen.

A soft sigh escaped her lips.

She was so close. So so close. But not ready. Her control over the boy was not quite secure; the spell did not settled at it should.

She needed more time.

She stroked her face once more. She had all the time in the world.

A horn blew in the distance, a boat approaching from across the Sunless Sea. A smile curled upon her full plum lips. _Finally_. Her sister had returned.

Her General. Who would once more stand by her side and help her take over a world.

….

Caspian paced in his chambers, restless.

Another knight missing. Gone to search for the princes who had been gone for the past eight years. Many had gone searching for him at their King's bequest. And yet none had returned.

Not one.

He had thought that it had been a sign that he was surely in the Wildlands of the North. But his knights could have been taken and eaten by the Giants of Harfang who had grown restless of late. They could have been kidnapped by the witches of the north. Or they could have simply given up and not returned.

A cry tore from his mouth. Despair.

He missed his son as much as he missed his wife – both beautiful, brilliant lights that had been taken from him.

He had no wife and no Heir.

What would happen to Narnia once he had gone?


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sapphyre looked at the man by her sister's side – silent as always. He cut a striking figure in his black armour and cloak, his helm held loosely beneath an arm. She remembered very distinctly her first impression of him – when her sister had brought him to live with them eight years passed. He could have been older than her, or perhaps younger, for his face had an ethereal quality as if he were one not born in Narnia.

But he was handsome, more so than any other she'd laid eyes on before: with dark hair and even darker indigo eyes. He looked both handsome and kind. But there had been something off about his face – and something wrong with the smile on Emerylda's.

And that strange smile had disappeared within weeks, replaced by bitter disappointment as she no longer pretended to be in love with the dark knight.

"What took you so long in returning to me, sister?" Emerylda's voice was cold. Impatient.

 _I had to kill another Narnian knight who sought you. I had to avoid being seen by travelling witches._ She did not say it aloud, but her sapphire eyes flicked towards the knight. "Complications, my Lady."

Her sister understood. She would not speak of it before the knight. For the enchantment was not yet secure. He could regain his true self at any moment; anything could trigger it. "See to it that you take care of Snowflake for me. We're to have guests soon. Make sure the earthmen don't mess up."

Sapphyre nodded and left the hall, her cloak swirling behind her. The pair's muffled speech was cut off by the closing of the door behind her.

The path from the castle to the stables was a familiar one, and it was not long before she stood before the beautiful white mare.

Guests.

Guests meant potential allies.

Not the naiads or the dryads of the north. They would not ally themselves with one who scorned the sun and seasons. _That_ had been an interesting meeting. The dryad had been lucky her tree was so well hidden, otherwise Emerylda surely would have burned it down out of spite after her adamant refusal to ally herself with them.

Or perhaps not so lucky; for she was chained to a wall in the dungeon of the Dark Castle to stop her from going to the Narnian king.

Sapphyre shook her head. For all the slyness of a serpent; her sister had a fiery temper when pushed enough.

A horn blew in the distance.

Their guests were approaching. And from the roof of a nearby house she watched, perched on one of the beams. Her eagle's eyes watched, picking up every detail, her wings shuffling slightly in the chill.

She watched silvery wings flitter; snowy-white hair drift. Silver-encased feet that did not touch the ground.

The snow fae.

Their queen, the elusive Elyon. Not someone Emerylda could lock up.

Her sister was raising the stakes. The danger.

Sapphyre watched as the earthmen pulled the boats ashore. The poor gnomes enslaved with enchantments that Emerylda had learnt long ago. Sapphyre knew that they missed their fiery home, Bism, a land of molten rock and after so long, they still were not used to the cold climate of Underland.

Sapphyre shook the thoughts from her mind and took flight.

Emerylda would speak with the Snow Fae Queen the moment she arrived at the Castle. And it would be Sapphyre's role, as it always was, to watch after the prince when her sister was occupied. They could let none see him.

Not until the enchantment had been perfected.

….

It was like waking from a dream when he came to himself; his vision was blurry and there was memories. But he could not quite remember what they were. There were always flashes, but disconnected. Jumbled. He remembered nothing from before the time the Queen pulled him from the lake.

He looked up when Sapphyre entered, a smile on his face. She greeted him with a scowl, as she always did. But he knew her heart was not quite in it, it never was. She was not a heartless as she pretended to be.

He watched the way she walked, the same regal bearing as her sister. But lighter. As if she would take flight. "So, my dear, what are we to do today? Ride? Go boating? Swimming?"

"Are you ever bored of doing things?" she asked, exasperated as she flopped down on his bed. Surrounded by the dark cushions and quilts, she looked so bright. Like the stone she was so perfectly named for.

He grinned, more akin to a lad of fifteen than a man of five and twenty. "Never." He could not help it, there was so much around them to explore. Always something to do. "Perhaps we could spar?"

He watched as she raised a brow. "After last time? I don't think your pride could handle another shameful defeat."

And he laughed. One day. He would beat her one day.

Even if it took another six years.

She appraised him for a moment – those too bright, too sharp eyes. She was like a flame, he decided. But guarded. Always guarded. As if she did not trust him. "Do you wish to leave this place?"

He watched her, the way she bit her lip. Only slightly, as if trying to hide her curiosity. She _wanted_ to know, she was not asking for anyone but herself. "Not entirely," he would her answer her honestly. "I remember nothing before the lake. When your sister saved me. There isn't anything wrong with the City. But I want to see more. I know there's more. Where there's light, and laughter. I want to go where you go, when I don't see you for weeks on end."

A shadow crossed her face. Dark and foreboding. And he wished it didn't suit her just as well as a smile did. "Perhaps one day she will let you leave." He guessed the comment was not meant for his ears, for it was muttered beneath her breath. "But not yet."

When she looked up at him bright sapphire and indigo met and her eyes were pained. She did not hide her emotions, not in that instance. "You can't, not yet. But soon."

"Is that a promise, my Lady?"

She smiled, softly. "I will try to make it so."

And to lighten the mood, he grinned and lunged. Her eyes widened a fraction before he picked her up, tossing her over his shoulder and against the wall where she landed in a perfect crouch. She raised a brow at him, a slight smile on her full lips. "Are you sure, Ril?"

The knight laughed, readying himself. "Perhaps I will beat you today."

He was only able to brace himself slightly before she lunged at him, knocking him over. Using his weight against him.

But even as she dodged his deft blows he laughed.

He did not want to see the shadows in her eyes.

….

The Dark Castle had a strange design, the like of which the Snow Fae Queen had never encountered before. Intricate details scrawled every surface of the underground castle – beautifully crafted. Yet eerily lonely.

Empty.

The sun did not shine on the city of the woman who had named herself the Emerald Witch. The name was quite apt though, Elyon thought, looking upon the woman. She was beautiful in the way that Jadis and Arianna had been, a beauty that was not quite human.

"Welcome to my home, Your Majesty," the Emerald Witch said as she stood, her deep jade dress pooling around her like a waterfall. Her unbound auburn hair rippled down her back.

Elyon inclined her head. An acknowledgement. Nothing more. She would hear out the Emerald Witch. Her alliance with the Narnians had ended when the Telmarines had invaded, when Arianna had sent her back North with her people so they did not perish. When they had been forgotten. But not gone, for though they had faded from memory, they had not truly gone. Though they were few, her people were still strong.

And the Emerald Witch knew that.

"I have seen the future, Queen of the Snow Fae," the witch stood with her arms akimbo, her eyes glittered with a strange light. "And I will rule. All those you are not with me are against me. It is you choice."

Still Elyon said nothing. Appraising. She saw the woman's true character. A serpent. An enchantress. She would do whatever it took to rule. Like Jadis, the White Witch. "Be careful, Emerald Witch. Many have tried to take Narnia by force. I have seen what Aslan does to those who harm His children."

And she laughed, emerald eyes flashing with mirth. "I do not believe in fairy tales, no mere lion will stop me."


End file.
